


The Smell of Roses and Ink

by charlottefrey



Series: charlotte-freys advent calendar [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Falling In Love, Florist/Tatooshop AU, M/M, Modern AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:50:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottefrey/pseuds/charlottefrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/98710964993/arthursalbion-killer-ink-i-passed-a-flower<br/>killer—ink<br/>I passed a flower shop next to a tattoo shop and at first I laughed because I thought it was ironic and then i freaked because IMAGINE YOUR OTP IN A FLORIST/TATTOO ARTIST AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Smell of Roses and Ink

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first thing I wrote and i still love it!

Dwalin glanced over the street. Parking his car in this damn traffic had been already unbearable, but going over the street without getting killed was a far bigger quest. While he stood dump by his car, he looked over. Right next to Thorin’s tattoo shop was a florist. Somehow, though he visited Thorin on a weekly basis, he had never seen _that._ He shrugged and was finally able to cross the road, thanks to a red traffic light.

   “Oi Thorin!” He shouted, when he entered the small, dark shop. Thorin, tall and brooding entered through the black curtain behind the desk, which led to his tiny flat. He grunted and rubbed his left arm, over the tattoo Dwalin had made him a few month ago. Celtic designs in dark blue ink.

   “Since when is this Florist next door?” Out of boredom, Dwalin looked over the pages of the tattoo designs lying on the desk.

   “Don’t know. Three weeks already.” Thorin leaned over and took the folder away, shooting his best friend a glance.

   “Know the owner?” Dwalin said and stepped back.

   “A tiny, blonde man with curly hair, a small voice and big green eyes. Exactly the type to look down on me.”

   “Have you ever talked to him?”

   “No.” Thorin said, searching through the things on the desk, looking for something.

   “You should go over and…” The bald man began, but his friend shot him a look.

   “Why?” Thorin said, face in a frown.

   “I bet your mother would like to have a bouquet from you once in a while.” Dwalin said and wiggled his eyebrows. Thorin rolled his eyes and threw a towel at his friend.

   “Dickhead.” The dark haired man got the towel against his neck and growled, when his ponytail loosened. “See what you did!”

   “Don’t piss yourself!” Dwalin said chuckling. “Are you now getting something for the old lady?” But his friend only shot him a look. “Hey come on. It’s not such a bad idea…your mom, will like it…”

   “Flowers…in _fucking winter_??” Thorin shouted and his voice vibrated through the small room, causing the photos on the wall to shake a bit. Terrified, Dwalin sat down on the old, ugly couch behind him.

 

Tired Thorin sat in his shop, leaning back in his chair. Fridays were terrible. Especially now during the cold season, when the lack of light made Thorin nearly go crazy with the need for sun. He sighed and rose. It was getting later and later and he needed to see his mother and father before he went home, because he had promised to see them again. Putting on his winter coat, he pulled his long, wavy hair into a ponytail and turned off the lights.

When he stepped outside into the freezing evening air, his eyes fell on the florist. He had countless flowers in his window and Thorin heard his mother complaining about the lack of flowers during Christmas season in the back of his head. Out of impulse, he entered and was soon surrounded with the sweet smell of flowers.

The florist himself was busy with some other customers, so Thorin looked around on his own. He had no idea whatsoever about flowers, just thinking them pretty and that’s it.

   “Do you need help?” The soft voice, which came from the height of his shoulder, startled Thorin.

   “Huh?” He said, the one dumpest thing possibly leaving his mouth. “Uhm…” He said, when he saw the big green eyes of the florist. “I need something for my mother. Best big flowers.” The man smiled.

   “Well…” Tapping his small hand against his chin, he looked around. On the name tag on his shirt, it read _Bilbo Baggins._ “I’d say some calendula…” He took some bright orange flowers. “…and some white roses with a bit of ivy.” Picking his flowers together, the man whisked through the shop, hands moving fast. When he returned to Thorin he held a bouquet up, face bright. There was mostly white, but the calendula shone brightly out of the mass. With the dark ivy and some other green things, Thorin couldn’t tell, it looked very good.

   “Looks perfect.” He said and caught himself smiling brightly at the tiny man.

   “Well then…if you’d follow me.” Walking slowly to the counter, Thorin tried to control his face once more and met Bilbo with a small smile, when the man put the flowers in paper.

   “Do I need to do something?”

   “Cut them before you put them in water. Change the water every three to four days and cut them again, if needed.” Bilbo said, as if he had trained for that.

   “Okay.” Thorin paid and picked up the bouquet.

   “You are the owner of the tattoo shop?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Bilbo Baggins.” The man held out his hand. “Sorry for never introducing me, but I was fairly busy over here.” He laughed and Thorin shook his hand.

   “Thorin Durin.” He said and swallowed. “I didn’t thought you want to meet me at all, ‘cause you know…me being a tattooed man and you are such a gentle creature.” Thorin shrugged.

   “Oh…I’m sorry for making you think that.” Bilbo said, genuinely surprised.

   “We’ll probably see each other more often. My mother loves flowers.” Thorin said and received a smile.

   “Then…see you.”

 

   “Darling, it’s lovely that you bring always flowers, but we will run out of vases.” Thráin told his son on the phone. “Your mother like them very much, but I feel like living in a florist shop.” Thorin only replied with a chuckle, looking at Bilbo’s shop as he entered if for the hundredth time, greeted with a broad smiling Bilbo holding a bouquet in his soft, small hands.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, giving kudos and commenting!  
> Have a lovely 3rd of December!


End file.
